Drowning Again on Dry Land
by greysgilmoregossip
Summary: Meredith has survived nearly drowning in the harbor. What if there were complications afterwards? What toll is her constant leaving taking on Derek? Set right after Drowning on Dry Land. (Finished)
1. Rescue

**With Season 13 coming up, I decided to start rewatching favorite episodes, and this story came to mind. Mostly MerDer. Just a short one shot, but I'll add more if anyone's interested! Reviews are welcome and appreciated.**

Derek hadn't slept. He had been listening to Meredith breathe for hours, and drifted off. As he nodded off, visions of blue frozen Meredith crossed his mind. He startled awake, jolting Meredith awake as well. He was breathing fast, his heart was racing.

Meredith felt his arms tightening around her.

"Derek? What happened?" She turned to face him, seeing the worry on his face. She reached up and twisted a piece of hair between her fingers.

"It's nothing, just go back to sleep." He sighed, and kissed her forehead.

"No, tell me what's wrong. Are you okay? Was it a bad dream?" She rested her hand under her cheek as she turned around completely to face him. She ran her fingers along his hairline, waiting for him to respond.

"I just- I was scared I was going to lose you today." He placed his elbow on the pillow to prop up his head.

"But you didn't. I'm fine. You saved me, and now I'm here and I'm fine." She smiled at him, and reached for his hand and squeezed it. He wouldn't meet her eyes. She leaned up and kissed him gently, ran her fingers through his hair.

"I'm okay." She repeated.

He met her gaze, and forced a smile.

"I know. Meredith, I- I love you."

"I know you do." She smiled, and touched his cheek with her tiny ineffectual knuckle. "I love you."

She held his gaze for a few moments, before turning onto her side, and placing his hands at her hips. She resumed her sleep, as he laid awake. Thinking. Thinking how he had lost all his will to live. Today, with the loss of one person, of one woman, and Meredith. If she was gone, everything was.

He awoke to Meredith coughing. He startled and bolted to a sitting position, watching as the violent coughing tore through her little body. It started small, but now she was having trouble breathing. She grabbed his hand, eyes wavering with fear.

"Meredith, what- breathe, just focus on breathing." He pat her on the back, trying to keep her calm. The coughing didn't stop. She stumbled toward the bathroom, he bolted after her. She kneeled over the toilet as the cough forced blood out of her mouth into the bowl. The site of her blood and the sound of her cough caused adrenaline to be released. He grabbed his phone an dialed 911.

"My name is Derek Shepherd, I need a Seattle Grace Ambulance right now!"

He watched her wilt onto the bathroom floor, eyes closed. He watched her eyelashes flutter as he rushed her down the stairs, out the door, toward the siren. He heard George and Izzie's worried voices around him. He watched the paramedic push a round of drugs through an IV, he watched her hands go limp off the edge of the stretcher. He watched the faces of Bailey and Webber grow closer through the ambulance window.

"Derek, what happened?" Webber demanded.

"I-I woke up and she was coughing, she started coughing up blood and then she was unconscious, but I think she looked at me in the ambulance, she's got two of epi in the past 10 minutes-" Derek described as he ran, holding Meredith's hand as she was rushed into the hospital.

"Okay, I need an emergency OR prepped, she must still have fluid in her lungs from the water-" The chief ordered.

The chief turned to Derek, who was looking hopelessly into Meredith's eyes.

"Derek. She needs I be prepped for surgery. I need you to wait in the-"

"No, Richard. Please. I need to go with her. I won't leave her again, she's leaving me-"

Richard sighed. "Ok. We need scrubs for Dr. Shepherd!"

The surgery was torture. Derek had to watch from feet away as monitors beeped, voices yelled, air rushed. All her could see was her face. Through it all. It was pale, but he kept waiting for it to come alive, to mock his scrubs given to husbands of labor mothers. He watched as her heart went into V Fib, but it was never connected. The body on the table wasn't Meredith. Meredith was rain. She was deep bathtubs, she was elevator rides, she was lip gloss and messy hair, she was snoring and nose strips, she was ferry boats, she was who he pictured in his dream house, she was who he dreamed of. This wasn't Meredith.

She survived. He heard someone say it. He watched as they rolled her out of the OR, towards the recovery unit. He tried to follow, but Dr. Bailey had removed his hand gently from hers, and had soothingly convinced him to take a moment. He stood in the OR. He couldn't comprehend that the blood on the floor was Meredith's. He stood alone for what seemed like forever, then sunk to his knees. He wasn't one to cry. He usually didn't let cases affect him too much, but he broke down. This was Meredith. This was different. He let all his anxiety melt away in quiet sobs.

He finally heard a voice at the door. "Derek," it was Richard. "She's going to be fine, but she'll need to take a good amount of time at home to heal and rest."

Derek remained crouched in the floor, his head in his hands. He felt the Chief's hand rest in his shoulder.

"You did the right thing. She's going to be fine." He repeated over and over.

She awoke to a burning in her throat. She could see a breathing tube, and immediately panicked. She looked around for a nurse, for Derek, for anyone.

She saw his face. She saw the worry in his eyes, how tired her was.

"Meredith, calm down. They have to leave the tube in, there's too much damage to your lungs." That was Izzie's voice. It was calm.

Derek leaped towards her, and she gripped his hand with all the strength she had. She could hear her breathing quickening through the tube, the monitors beeping.

"Meredith, you're okay. I got you, you're okay." She gripped his hand as she put her own hand in her chest. Her heart was beating. She was okay.

"We'll give you two a moment." Izzie and the two nurses who had been checking her vitals exited the room.

"Hey." Derek sat down on her hospital bed, pushed her hair back from her face. She pointed to the tube.

"They can't take it out until they know your lungs are clear. But soon. Just relax." He wrapped his arm around her, brushed her hair off her face. She motioned writing, for him to get a pen and paper. She scrawled 'Thank you.' He smiled sadly at her.

"Oh Meredith," he pulled her to him. "God, you scared me."

They both began to drift off. She felt the warmth of his body next to her. She pretended she was home after a normal day, that she was wearing her Dartmouth tee shirt not a night gown from the hospital, and Derek was lying next to her like any other night.

He felt her relax in his arms. He watched as her eyes drifted closed. He stayed awake, stroking her hair, her face, her back. The fatigue disappeared, and was replaced with stubborn will to stay awake, to keep her safe. He didn't know how long it had been, he assumed 5 or 6 hours, when the nurse came in to check her vitals. He hadn't even closed his eyes once.

"Dr. Shepherd, I can take her breathing tube out now, once she's awake." He nodded to the nurse.

"Hey." He whispered in her ear. She slowly rolled over, opened her eyes.

"They're going to take the tube out," he said and watched her eyes light up.

The nurse had Meredith sit up, and gently removed the tube and tape from her airway. She breathed her first shaky breath.

"You might have some discomfort. Your lungs were under a lot of stress during surgery. The coughing did some damage to your throat, but it's minimal should heal on its own. I'll give you a moment." The nurse left.

"Hey." She said softly, looking up at him.

"Hey." It was all he could've mustered in the moment.

"You look like crap," she said softly. He laughed, a thankful laugh, she had come back.

Visitors filed in throughout the day. Derek hadn't wanted to leave, but Meredith coaxed him to perform his prescheduled surgeries for the day.

Cristina came in first. She glanced at Derek, staring at Meredith.

"I'm sorry, but I'm saying this as your girlfriend's best friend; you need to go to sleep, or get a facial, or something. You're scaring patients." Meredith laughed at Cristina's comment. Derek smiled, happy to hear her laugh again.

"I suppose both of you are right. I'm gonna go shower. I'll have the nurses set up a cot in your room, so I'll just nap here until my Craniotomy at 6-"

Derek began to stand up, but Meredith stopped him.

"Derek, you're being ridiculous. Go home, or at least into an on call room. You need to spend some time not watching me breathe for hours-"

"I'm just worried about you, I think I have a right to-" She smiled at his protectiveness.

"I know and I appreciate that, but so do I. And I'll be fine. But I'm worried that you're going to pass out from exhaustion. Now, go sleep!"

He smiled, and slowly left the room. "Ah, thank God, that took forever. Let's talk about how annoying he is!" Cristina loudly whispered sarcastically while Derek was still in earshot. He looked back and smiled at Meredith chuckling and launching into whatever she and Cristina needed to catch up on now.

He opened the door to the locker room, turned on the water. He tried not to think about the last time he had been submerged in water. He tried to think about how he would open and perform his craniotomy in an hour, about what tools he would use, about what he needed to review in the patient's file. It felt like everything, even his mind, was moving on to some other thought or place, but he himself felt like he was still in the water, fighting to plunge a little bit deeper, to reach her icy hands.


	2. Repair

**I really appreciated the feedback I got on the last chapter, so I decided to add a bit more. I'm always open to suggestions on story line or characters or style, positive or negative. Hope you enjoy!**

Derek ran his hand along the seam of the couch. The couch. In an office. A therapist's office. In a hospital. In the hospital. He anxiously double checked the lock on the door, to make sure no one would interrupt his session.

"So your chart says you have elected to start on anti-anxiety meds to help your insomnia." Dr. Parker read off a clipboard. Derek hadn't realized how condescending it sounded to have a doctor read about you off a piece of paper to your face, like you were being branded and treated and then released back into the wild.

"Yes. Yes, that's correct." He crossed his right leg over her left. Then his left over his right. Then back again. The seam of the couch was warming under the friction of his hand rubbing it back and forth.

"Have you had any recent traumatic experiences that's might be causing the nightmares and insomnia?" Dr. Parker's questions floated in the air.

Had he drowned? No. But he wish he could've. Instead of her. It would've been easier. Easier for him. But he hadn't. He had been the one in the hallway. The one who caught a glance at her icy blue body as Addison exited the room, who say crouched for what felt like forever until Bailey made him get up and change out of his soaking wet freezing scrubs.

"My, um, my girlfriend," he stammered. "She's had a couple of near death experiences recently. So, um, I think staying awake is a way I cope with that." He watched as Dr. Parker set his chart aside.

"Why do you think staying awake makes you feel better?"

He contemplated this.

"She almost drowned the first time. The first time, anyway. But she came back. And then, I was sleeping, and she was sleeping. It was the night she came home from the hospital. And she had to go back. They said there was still fluid leftover, maybe from the-" He left the sentence unfinished, floating.

"So you feel as staying awake will keep that from happening again?"

Dr. Parker asked sincerely.

"No. I mean, I know it won't. I'm a surgeon. I know staying awake won't help her. It won't help anyone."

He uncrossed his legs. Then recrossed them. Right over left. Left over right. Again.

"You're a surgeon."

"Yes. A brain surgeon. So I know logically there's no point. But I know that the anxiety medicine could turn off the nerve signals sent from the-"

Dr. Parker cut him off.

"Let's keep this simple. You don't sleep because you want to keep her safe."

"Well, I know that- well, yeah, I guess I do."

"So you feel vulnerable when falling asleep?"

Derek thought for a moment. Vulnerable. He thought about his surgery techniques. How he never left an artery vulnerable. Vulnerable to damage. Vulnerable to being destroyed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I feel vulnerable."

"Vulnerable to what?" Uncross, left over right. Uncross again.

"I- Vulnerable to- her, I suppose. I feel vulnerable to feeling like I was too late, to feeling scared to lose her again. So I stay awake."

Dr. Parker nodded.

"Good. So now you've identified what the emotion and cause that's keeping you awake is. Let's look at it this way; when your girlfriend was almost drowned, did you feel guilty? Like you could've done something more?"

The seam of the couch was almost separate from the fabric now. Derek's feet lay flat on the floor.

"Yes. I thought I should've noticed she was gone sooner. I felt I should've made her open up to me, about how the things her mother said made her feel, I felt like I should've made her breathe in the ambulance. Like I should've made her better."

Cross again, left over right. Right over left.

"It sounds like you feel as if you should have 'made' your girlfriend do a lot of things that could've avoided the situation, the danger."

"Yes. Yes, I think I should've made her-"

"From what I hear, Derek, she doesn't sound like someone who can be 'made' to do anything."

Derek smiled. Meredith couldn't be made to wear a life jacket in the middle of the ocean if she didn't want to. He thought about the night when he told her about Mark and Addison. He thought about how he should've made her stay. How he could've made her feel better, to stop her from getting hurt.

"No, she's not exactly- tame. I can't make her do anything."

Dr. Parker removed her glasses, setting them down on his chart.

"Ah, see? You can't make her do anything. You can't make her healthy. You can't make her avoid danger altogether. You can't control her."

Uncross. Still. Finally still.

"No. No, I can't."

Pause. Dr. Parker watched as his hands and feet remained still for the longest time throughout his entire session.

"Derek, I'm going to prescribe you some anti-anxiety medication to help you sleep. But I want you to continue your sessions with me. I think there is a deeper issue here than what we have reached today."

Derek tried to convince himself as he walked out of the office that the white paper bag was not his own prescription. It was for a patient. No, in fact, it wasn't anything medical. It was one of Izzie's muffins. It was cheesecake. It was the Judy Doll heads Bailey had found inside a patient. Anything but his own prescription. He got into his car, his hands lingering on the smooth leather on the steering wheel. He crossed his legs. His foot caught on a piece of paper. It was a note.

 _Derek,_

 _I hope you have a good morning. I'm sorry for yelling at you for pulling me out of the bath. Hope you're wearing all your 'shining whatever' tonight. Dinner?_

 _Meredith_

He smiled. It was from before the ferry boat crash. It had been before the sleepless nights, before the blood. It was from when everything was easy. Simple.

Uncross. Breathe. Still. Be still.


	3. Repeat

**This is chapter and the next were originally one, but I thought I was a little tedious to have it posted altogether, so sorry if the ending seems a little sudden/awkward. Please review, I post as much as I can as often as possible. Hope you enjoy!**

 **\- GGG**

"Hey, do you wanna order pizza? Or should I make some disastrous omelets?" Meredith leaned across the kitchen island, towards Derek, who was reading the newspaper across from her.

"Uh, either is good," he said, without lifting his eyes off the paper.

Meredith wandered around the counter over to him. She rested her hands on the countertop, her head on her hands, angling her face under the newspaper.

"Did you just say my cooking was 'good'? Man, you really are dreamy."

She waited for a reaction. He eyes didn't drift up from the paper. She placed a handle gently on the paper, forcing him to make eye contact with her.

"Hello? Earth to Dr. Shepherd!" His eyes met hers. He rested his cheek on his hands, inches from hers.

"Sorry. I'm just- had a long day. That's all. And you're cooking isn't that bad." He forced a smile. She reflected a sunnier one back at him.

She lifted her head off the counter, and strolled towards the stairs. She waited to see if he would follow her, if she would feel his hand wrap around her hips, and lead her upstairs. But he didn't. He picked up his newspaper. He crossed his legs. Right over left. Left over right. She went upstairs.

"Something weird is up with Derek. Has he said anything to you?" Meredith laid back on her bed. She could see Cristina's curly dark hair out of the corner of her eye.

"Derek? He's probably just, you know, mourning."

Meredith sat up.

"Mourning what?"

Cristina sat up to join her best friend.

"Mourning you. When someone you're close to almost dies, the mourning kind of goes into autopilot and just starts. And then if they pull through, it takes a while for it to stop. That probably why he was so weird about that Jane Doe bone graft."

Meredith plopped her head back down onto the bed.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's probably it. That must be it."

They say in silence.

"Hey, how do I tell Burke I want no religious or spiritual aspect in our marriage or wedding?"

"You just tell him. But telling Burke you don't want God involved in your twisted Union is like telling us we can't panic before any big commitment. You have to make it his idea." Meredith thought about asking the question she knew Cristina was pondering herself, but she didn't.

"How long is Derek going to mourn me? Because he won't even look at me like normal, like I'm gonna turn to stone if he shows any affection. That is, until we're in bed. Then he turns into a high security prison guard. I swear, the last few nights, he never even fell asleep. Too busy strangling my hips with his big surgeon arms."

"Do all surgeons have big arms?"

"Well, they don't have small arms."

"You do."

"Yeah, but I'm not a real surgeon yet."

"When do we get to be real surgeons?"

"Whenever Derek stops mourning your cold blue non swimming twisty soul. When do we get to do solo surgeries?"

"As soon as you tell Burke you're a god-hating scalpel hungry formerly pregnant bride."

"Okay."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Yeah."

"Have you thought about telling Meredith how you feel?"

Derek slipped into his familiar stance on Dr. Parker's couch.

"I've told her. I've told her I love her, she's said it back. I've told her how scared I was. She tells me she's fine. I don't know how else, any other way to explain it to her."

"I mean tell her simply about your insomnia. She's probably noticed it by now, or at least suspected it. Have you told her the connection between how you felt that day and your insomnia?"

Derek tried to imagine Meredith's face if he had told her the day had been haunting him. He thought about the guilt it would make her feel. How she would probably bolt.

"No. I, um, haven't."

"It might help. Often people with survivor trauma find it relieving to let their loved one in on what's been happening since the trauma."

Derek's glance shifted to his feet. They had been sitting flat in the floor for the entire session. The anxiety medicine was helping him fall asleep, less jittery and nervous, but it didn't help with the nightmares.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll try that. Okay. I can do that. You say it helps people?"

Dr. Parker nodded slowly.

"It gives many people a sense of security of their own."

Derek looked at Meredith's closed eyes through the bubbles in the bathtub. He watched her lower her head, submerging her scalp and hair. She say back up, and looked into his eyes.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing." Derek mustered enough effort for a non convincing smile. It was transparent to Meredith.

"Derek, if something was wrong, you know you could tell me, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He scooped some bath water up with his hands, and rinsed his face.

They say in silence, the only sound being the sloshing of the bath water as Meredith applied her conditioner.

"Meredith?"

"Yeah?" He watched as she wrung her hair out.

"I've been um, I- I don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't been sleeping very well."

Meredith let her hair sink back under the water.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Is it my snoring? Because if it's really bothering you, I can do that laser surgery-"

"No, no. It's not the, um, snoring. I just, I've been, almost reliving, revisiting that day. The ferry boat crash day."

Meredith reached towards his hand which was resting on the edge of the bath.

"Is it what's been keeping you awake? The accident?"

"No, not that part. Just the moments, the hour or so, when you drowned." Meredith's eyes, which had been wandering, focused and studied Derek's face. He was looking down into the water, at their legs entwining.

"Okay. Do you want to talk about it? Do you want me to talk about it?"

Meredith was wracked with guilt. It was her. It was her that had her keeping her awake. It had been visions of her.

"I think- I think if you tell me what happened, it might help me understand, understand why you didn't, why you didn't swim."

Meredith's heart dropped.

"Okay. Okay." She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes for a quick second. "

This patient had an open leg wound. I had secured the tourniquet and cleaned it. But I had no access to IV pain meds, he was in a lot of pain. He didn't mean to, but he lashed out. He pushed me back. Back into the water."

Derek lifted his eyes off the water. He watched as Meredith's eyes now wandered to the bathroom window.

"It was cold. At first I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't feel how cold it was, I was in shock. I kicked. You know, I never thought about how heavy clothes are until I was in that water. Like something was pulling me down, low, lower. I kicked. I remember feeling the water through my sneakers. I could hear rushing. I could hear someone gasping. I looked around. I thought someone else was there, next to me. But it was me. It was me gasping."

Derek reached under the water and found Meredith's submerged hand. It felt numb to him. It felt light, as if made up of nothing more than water


	4. Realize

**Chapter 4. Review if you think I should continue. I think it feels like a good place to leave off, but if you disagree, let me know. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy.**

 **\- GGG**

"I remember hearing my mother. I remember hearing her words in the voices around me. I remember the way I couldn't hear her saying I was ordinary the deeper I got into the water. The deeper I sank. I pulled my head under, I held my breath. Just for a second. Just for a second, for quiet. Then-God, it was peaceful. I couldn't feel my hands anymore, I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't tell if I was moving or not. It didn't matter. And for a little while, everything was quiet."

Derek squeezed Meredith's hand. He stood up, out of the bath. He wrapped a towel around his waist. He grabbed another clean towel off the hook, opened it up for her. She stood up slowly. He watched her figure stand, he felt the warmth of her body through the towel as he wrapped her up.

They both went back to the bedroom. She pulled her Dartmouth shirt over her head. She pulled one of Derek's flannels over her. It was long enough so she wouldn't have to to fish around to find her yoga pants in the laundry.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt. He pulled the Blakey over him, over Meredith. He laid on his side to face her. She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling.

"You told Izzie you saw Denny."

"Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah, I did. He was there. Dylan was there, and Bonnie. Remember her? It was right after the train crash, when you told me you were staying with her. And she just kept bleeding. Nurse Fallon was there. They kept trying to get me to talk about the water. Oh, as Doc was there," she smiled.

"And Denny was telling me how all I would get with you if I stayed there was little moments, seconds, when we were in the same place at the same time. Then everyone was back. I couldn't breathe. We were sitting in the OR, and I couldn't breathe. I was crying, I was thinking about how I'd never see you again. Then I saw her," Meredith's eyes were filled with tears, but none had spilled down her face yet.

"Who?"

"My mother. I saw my mother. She was walking in the hallway. I met her halfway. And she told me I wasn't supposed to be here. She told me I was anything but ordinary. She hugged me, she was crying. But she told me to rub, she told me to go the the end of the hall. And I ran." She turned on her side to face him.

"I don't know if it was real. Maybe it was my own mind, telling me to pull through. Or something else. But that's what I remember." She sighed.

"And then I remember Cristina was there. She told me about her engagement. I remember Izzie and George and Alex came in. I remember hearing them talk around me, falling asleep. Then I was in another room. And then you came." She smiled at him. She tried to read his expression, to see if this had helped at all.

"Did that help? Did it make it worse?"

"No. Meredith, it made it- it made it better. It's fine, I'm fine."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. Their kids deepened. She settled her hips on his. He ran his fingers through her clean hair. She pulled his sweatshirt over his head, unbuttoned his flannel from around her torso. He lowered his sweatpants down this his mid thigh, he shifted her shirt over her head. She leaned forward and kissed him, he pulled her head strongly towards his own, afraid if he let go for a second, she might slip away.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Do you remember the ambulance?" He could feel her head shift on his chest. He could feel her body pressed up against his, relaxed, steady. She turned over, so her chin was resting on his chest. He had one of his arms bent supporting his own head, and one at the base of her neck, traveling from her hair and back.

"No. I don't remember anything until I woke up."

She looked up at him.

"What happened in the ambulance?"

He thought about whether he should reveal the moments that had been graphically haunting him for days, weeks.

"You were blue, cold. I had laid you down on a gurney. I think the paramedic had it in an IV, I don't know, I didn't care. I was waiting for you to wake up. I had started compressions. I breathed again and again for you. I kept waiting for you to sit up. For you to wake up. It was like you had lost all the you there was. You were just like ice. You were ice. You weren't you, you weren't-" He paused.

"What?"

"You weren't alive. For a split second, I thought you were gone. But once we got to the hospital, I ran while they brought you into the ER. I watched them wheel you past the spot where I had told you I wanted to call what we were doing a 'relationship'." He chuckled, seeing how stupid it seemed now. How stupid he was to not tell her. How everything could've been different.

"And Meredith, I- I don't know, I stopped wanting to breathe the second you couldn't breathe on your own."

She propped herself up so she could look at him, straight into his eyes.

"Derek. I don't want to be your everything. I want to be your something, your someone. I don't want you to want to die if I die. I don't want you to depend on me. I love you. I want you. But I can't be with you if I'm afraid to put myself in harms ways because I'm afraid you'll want to die, if something were to happen."

He saw how his words had bestowed all the weight, all the guilt and fear that he had been feeling; it had all been passed on to her, in the form of tears on her face, in her eyes.

"Meredith, but you are my everything. I'm not me if I'm not with you. I get to be hurt and afraid-"

"Derek, you just told me you wanted to die when I died. You didn't say you were scared, or hurt, you said you wanted to stop breathing, to stop living. That's different than love, that's-"

He turned onto his side, as did she. They faced each other.

"I can't promise I'm not going to die. And neither can you." She placed a hand lightly on his cheek.

"I know. I've- I've been going to therapy. It's been helping, I, I think I should keep going. I just need some time. I think we need some time, to stop moving. To just, stay the way we are, for a little bit." He nestled his face closer to her pillow.

"Okay. That sounds good." She said, barely audible.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Good."


End file.
